Kill Jace
by ClutzQueen
Summary: Clary was killed on her wedding day. That's all she remembers. When she wakes from a coma four years later, she decides to seek revenge upon the people who destroyed her life. Kill Bill X The Mortal Instruments. Rated T for course language, adult themes and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi Readers**

**This is my first TMI fic, and I wanted it to be memorable. So I took the plot from Kill Bill and mashed it with our favourite TMI characters.**

**Haha. If you guys know how Kill Bill goes, you know exactly what is going to go down. If you don't, well, it'll be fun for you to find out.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**-ClutzQueen**

I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding a lot.

That's all my brain can seem to comprehend. Blood. Red flashes behind my eyelids. I'm reaching for Simon's hand, trying to find him. Maybe he isn't dead. I'm not. He can survive if I can, right?

There are five people standing over me. Their faces show no emotion. They don't even seem to care about what they've done.

My body is going into shock. My vision is going double. I'm dying. I know I'm dying.

_No. You are not going to die, you coward. Get up. Get up, god damn it!_

The raven-haired girls smirks at me, "Not so high and mighty now, are we Clarissa?"

"Isabelle," a quiet voice silences her. The semicircle around me opens and an angel appears over me. A blonde halo of hair floats around his face. His gorgeous face glows with beauty. He is the boy I fell in love with. He is the boy that I still love.

He is holding a gun.

He was never one for guns. I can't quite comprehend it. _Guns are a cowards weapon, _he always told me.

He takes something out of his pocket- a handkerchief. A god-damn handkerchief. He dabs gently at my face with it. It stings. I gasp slightly.

"Shh," he hushes, stroking a finger down my face, "It's okay Clary. Its okay."

"Why?" I gasp.

"Because I want you. Because you left me for a _mundane,"_ he golden eyes flashed, "Because if I can't have you, no one can."

He pockets the handkerchief and clicks the safety off the gun.

I try and reach for him. I can't move my arms. _I can't move my arms._ I can't move anything. My body is dead. Only my mind is still working.

I hiss my last words out through my teeth, "Jace…it's _your _baby…"

Then he shoots me. Clean through the head. And everything goes black.

Six faces flash in the darkness of my vision.

Isabelle Lightwood.

Magnus Bane.

Sebastian Morgenstern.

Maia Roberts.

Alec Lightwood.

And Jace, beautiful Jace, _my _Jace.

They are the people that killed me.

They are the people that destroyed everything I loved.

_And I will have my revenge._

**Shit just got real. See you real soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two. Read, review, and enjoy. I forgot to add a disclaimer in the last chapter, so here it is.**

**Disclaimer: I own non of the Kill Bill plot or TMI characters.**

I'll tell you chief, I ain't seen anything like it."

Chief Luke Garroway was staring at the corpse of the red haired girl lying on the floor of the chapel. The walls were painted with blood. Constable Alaric was babbling on behind him, but he was beyond listening. The scene was horrific. Her groom to be lay a little to the left- identified as Simon Lewis, a small time business owner and former lead singer of a band Garroway couldn't remember the name of- with his head near separated from his neck. Their wedding guest- all Lewis's, Alaric had told him, were all dead, beyond medical treatment. It had been a massacre. No one had escaped not even the priest.

When had Luke staring at the bride was the bullet wound disfiguring her otherwise pretty face. Every other death in this church was so controlled, a blade to neck of to the back of the head, all instantly deadly. The congregation wouldn't have known what had hit them. But the bride- her injures were multiple. She had been bashed around, played with. And the bullet wound to the temple…

This death, out of all of them, had been personal.

What he found most interesting was the entry point of the bullet. It had almost been like her killer couldn't bring himself to kill her. His bullet had only gone in the side of her head, rather than a safer shot right in the centre of her forehead.

It was very strange.

"Sir, the paramedics want to take the bodies," Alaric called from the doorway.

"Take 'em," Garroway called, 'All but the bride. I want to look at 'er a little longer."

Stretchers began moving through the building, taking bodies into the multiple ambulances outside. When they rolled Lewis onto the stretcher, his head nearly came off entirely. Garroway flinched. His heart ached at the thought of a couple's happiest day in their existences being obliterated like this.

Garroway moved around to the bride left side. He felt her cheek. Cold as ice. Her eyes were closed. Blood stained the floor around her, as red as her hair. Her dress was wet with the stuff. He wondered who could possibly want an innocent girl like her dead.

Constable Alaric came up behind him, "Sir, what's your opinion?"

"It was done by professionals," Garroway said immediately, "You can tell by the cleanliness of the carnage."

Alaric looked around at the bloodstained, dripping walls, "Um…okay sir, whatever you say…"

"All but this girl. This pretty little bride," Garroway shook his head, 'I'm stumbled Al. I've never seen anything like this before."

Alaric cleared his throat, "Sir, I've been talking to the paramedics. Turns out we can identify her as a Tessa Gray. She's been in and out of hospital for the last few months. Last they saw her, she was seven months pregnant."

Garroway let out a hollow laugh, 'This girl ain't pregnant, Al. She's the skinniest girl I've seen in a long time, actually."

"There's no doubting it sir. I'm as confused as you are."

Garroway ran his fingers across her stomach, stopping at an almost invisible slit in her white dress. Someone had cut her open with such precision there was hardly blood on her dress where her stomach was. Someone had taken a baby out of her- cut her open almost invisibly.

Garroway thought, for the first time in his policing life, that he was going to be sick.

"Who would want to murder such a beautiful…_pregnant…_woman on her wedding day?" he asked no one in particular.

The brides body suddenly spasmed. Jerked. A hacking noise gurgled from the back of her throat and red gunk ejected from her mouth, splattering across Garroway's face.

"Holy shit!" he yelled, 'Get over here! She's alive! _She's alive, god damn it!"_

Paramedics ran to him. A single breath rattled from her lungs. The hospital team moved quickly, rolling the girl onto a stretcher, attaching an oxygen mask to her face, then pressing down on the wound on her stomach as it began to bleed once again. As they prepared to cart her outside, Garroway shoved his way toward the bride, feeling cruel, but needing information, "Who killed everyone? Who attacked you, Tessa? Who?"

The girl opened her mouth again, and a crackling noise came out. A parmedic pushed him angrily away and they carted her out of the chapel.

Garroway stared away them, then took out a tissue and wiped off his face. He looked behind him to the giant cross at the back of the chapel. He wasn't Christian- he only went to church on Christmas. But he kneeled down anyway.

_God be with that girl. God give her mercy._

**_Dun-dun-dun. _Clary Fray is still alive. Shocker.  
**

**I hope you enjoyed this update. More to come soon. Next chapter, enter Isabelle Lightwood (she's the psychopathic bitch of this story, BTW. In case you hadn't guessed).**

**-ClutzQueen**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey Readers**

**Enjoy this update. Obviously the characters are majorly OOC, though there are still some qualities thy had from TMI. Mostly arrogance. Its a Shadowhunter thing.**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own nothing. Lets go.**

Isabelle Lightwood had always hated Clarissa Fray.

The redhead hadn't known it, of course, but Isabelle had wanted her to die since the day she arrived at the Institute to join the Deadly Shadowhunter Assassination Squad. She used to be Jace's favourite- Clary changed all that. Isabelle was shoved down a spot, and Clary took over, all because Jace wanted to screw her.

Okay, not quite true. If screwing Jace was all it took to get on top, Isabelle would have done it in a heartbeat. But there was something _special _about Clary. Something that caught Jace's eye and held it. No girl held Jace's eye for more than two seconds. That was one thing, she guessed, that the red head midget had going for her.

She was in a closet, stripping off her leather outfit and shimmying into some fat nurses outfit. It hung of her like a sack. She wrapped a snakeskin belt around the outfit to tighten the waist and tied up her hair, then adjusted the nurses hat on her ebony coloured hair. Her golden whip was coiled around her arm, but she wasn't planning on using that. A tray of greenish liquids was arranged on the tray in front of her. She had purposely chosen poisons that would burn themselves out- it would just look like poor Clarissa Fray had been through too much to survive.

She skipped out of the closet and tramped confidently down the corridor, pushing her cart full of needle in front of her. She went past the receptionist, who didn't even look up, and then down through the set of doors that lead to a _Tessa Gray_'s private room.

_Little snivelling coward wasn't even brave enough to use her own name._

Isabelle stopped her cart and pushed aside the curtains surrounding the bed in the centre of the room. Clary looked mostly dead, with skin whiter than ever and dark shadows around her eyes. The bloody bride's gown was gone, and she was wearing a blue hospital dress. Her flaming hair spread out on the pillow around her, brushed free of its usual kinks and knots. The only clue she was still alive was the beeping machine beside her, and the slight, up-down movement of her now un-pregnant chest.

Isabelle smiled down at the girl, "You know, I think I like you better like this," she told the unmoving girl, "You're a lot quieter. Prettier too."

Clary did not respond. Isabelle picked up one of the needles and skirted a little out of the end, like she'd seen in movies, "I always hated you, you know. You always thought I was your bestie, but I despised you and you're pathetic control over Jace. But I do respect you, midget. That's why I'm giving you this gift. Dying in our sleep is a luxury our kind is rarely afforded. So farewell forever, Fray."

She leaned over and pressed the needle to the girl's arm, ready to insert it. She smiled wide.

Then her phone buzzed in her pocket and ruined everything.

She groaned, put the needle down on the pillow and answered it, 'Jace, what the hell do you want?"

"Hello to you too, Iz. How is she?"

"Comatose," Isabelle leaned back on the wall, "Not for long."

"Sorry Iz, but she'll be staying that way for now. Abort mission."

"What?" Isabelle cried into the phone, 'Are you _kidding _me?"

"We owe her better than that."

"We owe her nothing!" Isabelle shouted, "By the Angel, Jace, just 'cause you couldn't _shot _her when you had the chance…"

"Keep your god damn voice down. May I say one thing?"

"Speak, leader."

"Get out of there. We beat the shit out of that girl, I put a bullet in her head but we couldn't kill her. Her heart just kept beating. You can see that yourself, can't you? We've done a lot of things to Clary Fray. If she ever wakes up, we'll do a whole lot more. But we don't sneak into her room and kill her while she's got her eyes closed. That's about as cowardly as pretending your name is _Tessa Gray _and marrying a mundane. Don't you agree, Izzy?"

Isabelle sighed, "God damn you Jace."

"I'll take that as a yes," Isabelle could hear his smile, "Come on home, sister."

"Affirmative, brother."

"Alec misses you."

"Tell him to get over himself."

"Will do. Love you."

Isabelle hung up and stared down at Clary's frail frame. She could disobey orders and kill her anyway. Jace would forgive her, eventually.

But Isabelle Lightwood was not a coward.

She leaned down and put her lips to Clary's ear, "They say people in a coma can still hear you. Well, word of advice hon. Don't you ever wake up. Because if you do, I'll be at the foot of your bed with a knife, and I'm gonna make _sure_ you don't come back to life."

Clary did not respond.

"Toodles, Tessa Gray," Isabelle patted the girls empty stomach, flicked back he hair and left, pushing the cart of poison in front on her and heel clicking o the hospital tiles.

The heart rate monitor beside Clary's bed accelerated slightly, then when back to its slow pace. And didn't pick up again for the next four years.

**And then four years later...**

**Next chapter coming soon. See you soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

My eyes opened.

The room I was in was dark. There was a beeping machine beside me. An IV drip was in my hand. I was wearing one of those hospital gowns that were open at the back. I can't feel my legs.

But I am alive.

Well, I think I am.

My heart rate monitor started beeping like crazy. I ripped the band connecting it to me off, and it goes flat line. Which probably wasn't the best idea- they probably had monitors of these things, and I'd just died.

I tried to sit up, but my body betrayed me. I close my eyes and tried harder. My body lifts slightly off the bed. I put my hands on my stomach and pushed down, trying to fold my body upward…

My stomach.

My stomach was flat.

My baby was gone.

I screamed. It's the only thing I could think of to do. The scream turned into a wail, the wail turned into a sob. The numbness forgotten, I curl into a ball over my un-existent womb and cry.

_Six faces flash in the darkness of my vision. _

_Maia Roberts. _

_Magnus Bane. _

_Alec Lightwood._

_Sebastian Morgenstern._

_Isabelle Lightwood._

Jace Herondale.

_Jace Herondale._

My fists clenched. My entire body trembled. The tears are gone. I will not cry.

_I will have my revenge._

Heavy footsteps sounded on the hallway. Unable to move, I laid down again, hastily closed my eyes and tried to be as still as possible.

I heard the curtains pull across violently. Someone moved around my bed, and then laughed breathily.

"Now how did that happen?" a deep Spanish voice seemed to taunt me. A hand took my wrist and strapped the machine band back on. The beeping started up. I steadied my breathing.

"Fast," the Spanish voice said to himself, "Congratulations. You could be waking up soon."

I wondered if I should open my eyes, wake up. It'd be a miracle, I would be able to leave, and no one would question me.

Then I tensed as hot pressure was applied to my body as someone climbed on top of me.

"Suppose we should take advantage of the time we have left then, hey sleeping beauty?"

A pair of lips met mine, wrenching them open and something wet entered my mouth. It felt positively repulsive. A pair of hands gripped my chest tightly. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine.

I bit down on the tongue, hard, until I tasted blood. I heard a scream tear the through the air like tissue paper and the pressure on me disappeared. My eyes shot open and I spat the blood out of my mouth. A man dressed in blue nurse scrubs, with a nametag reading _Raphael _was clutching his mouth, shrieking at the top of his lungs. My legs found their purpose for one second. I leapt from the bed and I tackled Raphael to the floor. Straddling his legs with my limp ones, I slammed his head against the floor.

"Where is Jace?" I screamed at him, "_What's Jace, you disgusting piece of…"_

"I don't know what you are talking about!" Raphael cried in his heavy accent, "I know no Jace! I am Raphael! Just a nurse!"

"A nurse who thinks _screwing _comatose patients is acceptable?" I shrieked. I shuddered to think of this man and what he had done to me in my unconscious state. I repressed the images to the back of her mind, 'How long have I been in a coma? Where's my baby? _Where's Jace?"_

"I do not know Jace!" Raphael was sobbing, "You have been in this hospital for four years. That's all I know! Please, Please…"

_Four years._

I slam Raphael's head against the floor again, hard, "_Where's my baby?"_

"I know nothing of a baby!"

He was telling the truth. My baby had been taken out of me before I got here.

Raphael whimpered, 'Please, please let me go…"

"Lets see how you like being utterly helpless," I hissed, then, using my elbow, jerked his hips out of their joints. The man screamed in pain as I dragged my self off him and kicked him in the ribs, using all my strength to move my foot. Raziel had taught me how to paralyse people me first day on the job. Raphael wouldn't be feeling his legs for a _very _long time.

I dragged myself out from under the curtains, leaving Raphael screaming behind me. I pulled myself onto a stray wheelchair, hanging my limp legs over the side and carefully driving myself down the hallway. Luckily there was no one at reception to see me escaping. I got to the coat where the doctors hung their coats, paused, then went through each pocket until I came up with a bunch of car keys.

Wheeling myself as fast as I could to the car park, I clicked the button on the bunch until I heard a car blip in the distance. Following the sound, I found myself outside a red coloured sports car with the large words 'Shagin' Wagon' printed along the back. Rolling my eyes, I pulled open the back door and rolled myself across the back seats.

_Okay feet, do your thing._

I tried to wiggle my toes. They didn't move. I closed my eyes and groaned. I tried again, harder. My right foot jerked a tiny bit to the right.

This was going to take a while.

Still pushing to activate the muscles in my foot, I closed my eyes and pictured the last scene I saw before I was shot me through the head.

Six people.

Maia Roberts. Curly brown hair twisted into Bali braids down her stiff shoulders, dark skin matching her deep brown eyes. She wore gold eyeliner and an old denim jack, now splattered with the blood of the wedding reception attendants, and held her shimmering sword by her side, face giving away no hint of emotion.

Magnus Bane. Black hair spiked and filled with glitter. The glitter continued on his body, and his clothes were dark blue and eccentric. He had a couple of facial piercings- his unnaturally green-gold cat-slit eyes were filled with nothing- I was hurt but that. Magnus was always so nice to me. I hoped he would a least feel a little regret in what he was doing to me.

Alec Lightwood. Isabelle brother, with matching black hair, but venomous green eye opposed to her bright blue ones. Magnus's height, with Jace's build, he was the one Clary would have suspected the most of being glad at her demise- the boy had always seemed to hate her. But he wasn't looking he in the face- his eyes were down at the floor. His bow was in his hand, his arrow quiver slung over his shoulder- one of those arrows was sticking out of the throat of Simon's best man, Eric.

Sebastian Morgenstern, Jace's adoptive brother, looked down at me with those black marble eyes. White hair fell in his pale face. I'd called him Vampire behind his back when she'd first joined the Squad. He was the only one of the Shadowhunters who actually scared her. His still, calm face still made me feel sick, and made a shudder run down my spine.

Isabelle Lightwood. Sneer twisting her facial features, blue eyes glaring down at me. Shiny black hair plaited down her back, golden whip coiled around her wrist and red high-heeled shoe brushing my leg.

Jace Herondale. Gold. That was the only way I could think of to describe him. Golden hair. Golden eyes. Golden skin. Golden when he smiled. Golden when he frowned. Golden as he pulled the trigger aimed at my forehead.

Jace, my Jace, my beautiful golden boy Jace.

These are the six people that killed me.

These are the six people that killed my baby.

These are the six people that are going to pay.

I could move my entire right leg now. The numbness fading, I rolled to the front seat, threw open the glove box and rummaged around in it until I found a chewed pencil and an unused notepad. I scribbled down something on one page, then ripped in to and stuck it onto the glove box with an old wad of gum attached to the steering wheel.

Feeling confident with my legs, I swung them around to face the gas pedals and fish tailed out of the parking lot in the Shagin' Wagon.

The list I'd just made flapped in the wind of the open window. It was written in messy text, almost unreadable, but legible enough for me.

**Death List**

**1.**Maia Roberts

**2.**Magnus Bane

**3.**Alec Lightwood

**4.**Sebastian Morgenstern

**5.**Isabelle Lightwood

And last, underlined several times:

**6.**Jace Herondale

_Get ready, Shadowhunters. I'm coming for you._

I pushed down harder on the pedal, flying down the street, to find my killers.

**Okay, just to ****clear things up- this is not a word for word playback of Kill Bill. I'm changing some stuff around, like the Kill List number, order of demise (I love that word) and in some cases death. I'm mostly just using the revenge theme of the story. **

**See you soon! Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

I shoved open the door of Diana's Arrow and stormed in, knocking over an arrangement of swords in the process. A dark hair, dark skinned woman appeared at the noise.

"Hey, watch it…" Diana Wrayburn froze at the sight of me. The silver koi fish tattoo on her cheek shone on her skin.

"Hello Diana," I said cheerily, "Remember when I gave you a very special sword and told you to look after it for me?"

Diana's mouth gaped, "Clarissa? Clarissa Fray?"

"I answer to that name," I folded my arms, "I need it back now."

Diana made a small choking noise.

"Look," I said angrily, 'Do you want money? I have a car. What? I just want to get Heosphoros, then leave and you to forget I was ever here. To hard for you, Wrayburn?"

Diana shook her head, "No, I just heard from a source…"

"Your source was wrong. Now give me Heosphoros."

Diana bit her lip, then straightened her shoulders, "I will get it."

She headed out the back. I looked around the weapons store, painful memories burning into me. The day Jace had taken me here to get my first sword. The way he'd talked me through the different types of blades. The way his hand remained on my back the whole time. The way he'd positioned Heosphoros in my hand, finger lingering against my skin.

The fierce way he'd kissed me in the alley outside. That was the first time I'd ever really felt whole. Like my whole world was perfect.

Whatever.

Diana came back with my blade balanced in her shaking hands. Heosphoros was black and gold, about the length of my forearm. A pattern of stars decorated the hilt and blade. It was so dark silver, It looked black- but was so shiny a clean, just as I'd left it, I could still see my reflection in it. With it was the leather scabbard with silver stars stitched up it.

Diana was sweating.

Diana Wrayburn was an incredibly strong woman- one of the toughest Shadowhunters I'd ever encountered. Something had shaken her up bad.

Then I noticed her hand. Or rather, the lack of it.

"Diana," I said slowly, "What happened to your right hand?"

Diana looked like she was about to cry, "Keeping this sword… was a dangerous thing. Sebastian Morgenstern came."

My blood went cold, "What?"

"He demanded your sword. He said you'd left it to him after your…death," Diana bit her lip, "I asked to see the papers. Sebastian got angry. I refused to tell him where the sword was, so he…" Diana trailed of, lifting the prosthetic hand up for me to see, "I thought he'd keep chopping off limbs until I handed it over, but he just left. I haven't seen him since."

"When was this?" I asked her.

"Nearly three years ago," Diana recalled, "Take your sword, Clarissa, but than leave after that, and do not come back. Whatever quarrel you have with Sebastian Morgenstern, I do not wish to be involved again."

"Understood," I nodded, "I apologise that you were ever part of this. I just have some old scores to settle. _Very _old scores."

"To come to reclaim this sword after all these years, I imagine they are very big scores," Diana guessed.

"Huge," I agreed. I took Heosphoros in two hands and held it in the way Jace had taught me, "Thank you, Diana. The Angel be with you."

"May your old scores be settled," Diana smiled at me, "Goodbye, Clarissa."

I nodded, and then left the store. Putting Heosphoros on the passenger seat of the car, I got behind the wheel. My Death List flapped in the wind when I opened my door, then came to a rest. The first name seemed to shine in the streetlight above me.

_Maia Roberts._

Number one.

She would be the easiest to find, I guessed. When one manages the hard task of becoming the Queen of the Lycanthropes, one doesn't keep it a secret, does one?


	6. Chapter 6

_She would be the easiest to find, I guessed. When one manages the hard task of becoming the Queen of the Lycanthropes, one doesn't keep it a secret, does one?_

Maia Roberts did. Finding her was a total pain in the ass. Eventually, I traced here down to an old police station, her new home base. It was a dingy old place, smelt of wet dog and old coffee, and painted a mouldy shade of dark blue. One light was on in the window, but the rest of the building was dark.

I left the car out the front, locking the door after grabbing Heosphoros and tying back my hair in a thick ponytail. My bare feet slapped the ground as I approached the building- my fists stretched, then tightened into fists.

They only uncoiled to press, hard, down on the buzzer of the police station.

Nothing. I rang it again, and then when there was silence, once more.

There was a crashing noise from inside, then loud footsteps heading toward the door. My chest sort of seize up as I prepared myself to face number one on the Death List.

The door opened, "God Jordan, patience is a virtue and all, and it's not like you don't have a key…"

Maia Roberts opened the door the whole way and met my eyes. Hers sparked in recognition. The emotions flashed over her face in an instant- first shock, then confusion, then horror, then angry and then just a flash of fear before returning back to shock.

I took a micro-second to let myself return to that night, four years ago, where I lay in pool of my own blood on the chapel floor and where Maia Roberts stood over me, with her stupid emotionless expression, brandishing her sword. She didn't often use a weapon. She preferred her less…discrete weapon of choice.

"Hello, bitch," I smiled warmly.

Then I punched her right in the face.

She flew back into the building, crashing into a wall and sliding to the floor. I leapt at her, Heosphoros raised to bring down on her skull, but she rolled to the side and jumped to her feet. Placing her feet in a defensive stance, she growled a little, screwing up her face in a snarl.

"Bad doggy," I teased. Flicking my hair back over my shoulder, I matched her stance.

She exploded out at me. Her fingernails tearing and her teeth gnashing, she tackled me to the floor. Her nails had grown into long, sharp claws and the veins on her hands and neck had gone black. Her claws raked along my cheek, and tore into the flesh of my shoulder. I retaliated with a jab of Heosphoros to her stomach, but only caught her in the hip with the hilt as she leapt backward into the hall. She disappeared down it, but I rolled to my feet and chased her down it. She leapt up on the old receptionist desk and jumped over my head to land behind me and kick my in the tailbone. I made a choked gasp noise and toppled over the desk, which Maia promptly ripped out of the floor and threw on top of me. It hurt like a bitch but I managed to roll into a ball and brace myself before it shattered on me like glass. Picking myself out of the wreckage, I found Maia gone again, and turned another corner.

I was in the cellblock now, and Maia stood at the other end, black veins in her neck even darker her eyes were a yellowish colour and her teeth were getting to large for her mouth, her true lycanthrope nature bursting at the seams.

"Hey," I tutted, "Have you no shame? That's cheating, you dog!"

"Deal with it, bitch," Maia snarled, cracking her fingers slowly.

"Whose the bitch?" I snarled right back.

Maia shrieked and threw herself at me, hitting me with a roundhouse kick to the stomach. I flew backwards, but came back quickly, slamming my elbow into her spine and knocking her to the ground. Wrapping my legs around her body, I held her in a chokehold, squeezing down on her neck as she choked helplessly. Her veins went back to their normal colour as she scratched at my arm viciously. I pulled my elbow harder, feeling the air leave her lungs and her oesophagus spasming as she gulped for oxygen.

Something came down, hard, on my back. I shrieked and Maia managed to shove me off her, throwing the stray piece of metal she'd slammed between my shoulder blades aside and repositioning herself.

"Come on, midget," Maia growled, "I'll kill you, you piece of flaming…"

"You thought you could kill me four years ago. You failed," I darted forward- she knocked me back, "What makes you think you'll succeed this time?"

"Because I'm not Jace," she hissed, "And I actually know how to _end _someone properly."

"Yes, how is _Jace?" _I hissed out his name, "Does he know I'm back? Does he know I'm hunting you traitors down, one by one? Does he know I'm hunting _him _down?"

"Whose the traitor?" Maia snarled, "_Tessa Gray?"_

I refused to let emotion show on my face. We taunted each other, Maia coming up with her claws, me flicking Heosphoros at her like a snake.

"Common, dog," I hissed, "_Bring it on._"

Click.

"Maia?"

Maia's eyes widened in terror and her head flicked toward the sound of the male voice. I took the chance to jump her, but she knocked me back easily. Her eyes were pleading- her head shook in a 'no' just slightly.

I turned toward the sound of the approaching footsteps. The male voice was saying, "Maia? Come on, I know you're here…"

Just as the voice rounded the corner, I spun the blade in my fingers and pull it behind my back, standing by Maia. Her claws and teeth shrunk and her eyes went back to their ordinary colour.

When the boy came around the corner, he stopped short. Maia smiled giddily.

"Hi Jordan," she waved heartily.

Jordan looked between us, eyes lingering on me, "Whose this?"

"This is my…old…friend, Tessa Gray," Maia smirked slightly. Did she want me to stab her here and now, "Tessa, this is my…boyfriend. Jordan."

Jordan smiled at Tessa, "Sorry, I haven't heard of you before."

"Please, I'm not that memorable," I smiled at him, "I feel really bad for not staying in touch with Maia. What has it been…four years now?"

Maia grimaced.

"Well, it's great to met you, Tessa," Jordan beamed, "Are you staying for dinner? A couple of the guys wondering if they could…"

"Jordan," Maia said calmly, "Can you go and wait in my room? Please?"

Jordan cocked his head in confusion. He was cute, and didn't look at all like the werewolf men that used to hang around Maia. He was a tall, brown-skinned rocker-look boy with long, dark hair that tumbled over his forehead and down his neck in curls, and had long, thick eyelashes I envied. He was broad-shouldered and slim, but muscular, with high cheekbones and startling hazel-green eyes. On both arms, he had tattoos that looked like scrolling script winding around his skin.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked, confused, "Wait a minute…Maia, are you bleeding?"

Maia lifted a hand and covered the slash along her eye as casually as she could, "Tripped over a…desk…um, Jordan, we've just got some…girl talk to… talk about. I'll be with you in a second."

Jordan still looked confused, but he was obviously to in love to argue. He took a last bewildered look at her and disappeared around the corner.

I turned to her, "Puppy love?"

"Shut up," Maia snarled. Then she composed herself and took one deep breath, "Coffee. Do you want coffee?"

I looked at her incredulously, "Seriously?"

Maia didn't look like she was joking around. After studying her face for a while, I nodded, "Sure. No sugar, no milk?"

"I remember," Maia said stiffly, "Just like Jace."

Before I had the chance to answer, she was walking away.

"So, I guess it's too late for an apology," Maia passed me a ceramic mug across the kitchen counter. Black, just the way I liked it.

Just the way Jace liked it.

"Correct," I took a long sip, and then paused to wonder if she'd poisoned it. Probably not. Maia was a girl of honor and all that bullshit. She wasn't sneaky, like some of the other girls in the team I could think of.

_Calm, Clary, Isabelle Lightwood will get what's coming to her. Eventually._

Maia chugged her three sugar, full cream coffee and then wiped the remains off her lips with her sleeve, "So, I guess you're here to get even."

I laughed out loud, "Even? By just killing you? That's what you think is _even?_" I leaned in, glaring at her, "If I wanted to get _even, _you'd have to be pregnant. Then, just when you'd grown on that unattractive lump in your stomach, just when you learned to love it, I'd have to cut it out of you, killing it, then slit your throat, then go upstairs and slit the throat of your pretty boyfriend. _That _would be even. Understood?"

Maia slammed her coffee cup down in the sink, "You won't hurt him. Please," she looked up at me desperately, "Look Clary, we never got on back_ then_, but I promise you, I never wanted to harm you or your child. I had orders. And if I could go back in a time machine and change it all, _I would. _I'm a different person now, Clary. I haven't seen or heard from any of _them_ since the wedding hijack, I'm not even leading the lycanthropes anymore as you can probably see , I don't…"

"You can stop right there," I interrupted, "_Bitch. _You think I care? Just because I have no desire to murder you in front of your boyfriend doesn't mean that telling me how you're a good little puppy now will change anything. _You and I have unfinished business. _And not a goddamned fucking thing you've done in the subsequent four years, with the squad or not, is going to change that."

Maia cocked her head, "So when do you suggest we finish this business, Fray? Or are you still going by Gray these days?"

I scolded, "I don't know. When _do _you want to die, Roberts?"

Maia folded her arms, "Tonight. There's a basketball court three blocks down from here. We meet there in all black."

"Too scared to be seen?" I asked.

"No, bitch, I don't want us to be interrupted," Maia snarled, "Want another coffee?"

"Sure."

"Want something to eat?"

I cracked my knuckles against the table, "If you're offering."

Maia turned away and swung open the fridge, fumbling around inside it for a while.

"So, you haven't heard from any of them? Never?" I asked, taking another sip of my coffee.

"Well," Maia turned to face me, "Sebastian Morgenstern did come over. Really early, ages ago. He asked me if I was ever coming back, and I told him I wasn't. He wished me the best for my future. I haven't seen him, or the rest of them, since."

I paused, then choose to change the subject, "So. Weapon of choice- are you going to use Satan's gift to you or the sword you used to cut off my fiancées head four years ago?"

Maia growled, "I still can't believe you left Jace for one of them."

"He was a very nice man," I protested, "And he didn't lead a band of demon hunters and cold hearted assassins, which was a plus."

"Kiss my ass, Fray," Maia leaned further into the fridge.

"Weapon of choice, I'd prefer if you stayed human, although under the circumstances I'd understand if you didn't comply."

Maia snorted, "Very funny, Fray," she turned around with a large plate of cucumber sandwiches on a white plate, "Very _FUNNY!_"

Suddenly the sandwiches exploded in a volcano of bread and cucumber as Maia pulled the trigger on the gun concealed beneath the pile. The bullets lodged into the wall right beside my head, barely missing me.

Maia Roberts cheated. Trying to shot my through a plate of cucumber sandwiches? Where was that honor I respected her for?

Before she could aim again, I dropped my coffee cup and kick it toward her. As she ducked to move out of the way of the flying mug, my fingers dove to the rack of knives on the kitchen bench and let one fly through the air. Distracted by my coffee cup smashing on the wall behind her, she didn't have time to react before the knife sunk into her chest, all the way to the handle.

She made a sort of squeak slash croak noise and blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, spilling onto her shirt. There was a squealing noise as she slid down the fridge and collapsed in a heap on the floor. She spasmed slightly, and then was still.

I walked over to her and tugged the knife out. Blood pooled through her shirt and puddled out on the floor.

"Maia?"

I turned. Jordan stood at the door, mouth gaping open at me, as I stood among the remains of the cucumber sandwiches and over the blood of his now deceased girlfriend, holding the knife that had killed her. His eyes travelled around the room, and then snapped back to me.

I let out a sigh, "Look. Jordan?"

He didn't move.

"I had no desired to kill her in front of you. But trust me," I looked down at Maia's pale face, "Your girlfriend had it coming."

His hands were shaking.

"If you feel raw about it, attack now," I told him, "But I will warn you. I will not hesitate to kill you, or anyone else who gets in the way of my revenge. Understood?"

Jordan did not take his eyes off me as he shifted his body sideways, out of the doorway. I nodded, and walked past him toward the doors.

Suddenly I felt his heavy hand on my shoulder. I tensed, ready to fight.

"Go," he said softly, "But keep looking behind you. I'll let you get your revenge, but I want my revenge too. This is not me letting you go. This is my letting you get ready."

I nodded slightly, "I'll be waiting."

He watched me all the way out the door.

I hopped in the Shagin' Wagon and grabbed the Death List. I ran a black line through number one, Maia Roberts. My eyes travelled down to the second name on the list.

Magnus Bane.

My foot pressed down on the gas and I flew down the street. Towards my next target.

Destination: Brooklyn.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**One down. Five to go. Let's go**

Magnus stood from his chair quickly, eyes glued to the paper in his hands. Isabelle Lightwood's looping handwriting scrawled over the brownish paper, a short but clear message.

The Dog's dead. She wants you next.

I. Lightwood

Then, scrawled at the bottom like a bored afterthought;

Get my brother to me.

Maia Roberts- dead. He never though he'd see the day. She was always so careful, so strong, and so dangerous. If he feared any of the team, it had to be her- and not just because of her ability, but the coldness that followed her, the disregard she held for human life. And Clarissa Fray- tiny, frail, girly Clary Fray- had killed her.

"Magnus?"

The warlock turned to face Alec, who was rubbing his eyes, upright in bed. The Shadowhunter's blue eyes searched him sleepily as he grabbed a shirt, which he pulled over his bare chest.

"Morning Alexander," Magnus smiled at his boyfriend. He pocketed the paper and walked over to him, sitting next to him on the bed and pulling off his shirt.

Alec blinked at him, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Magnus dragged him in and kissed him softly. Alec kissed him back happily, arms wrapping around his waist tightly. Magnus growled and kissed Alec harder, pushing him backward into the sheets and sliding his hands up the boy's t-shirt. Alec's hand slipped inside his pocket and…

"No, wait-"

Too late. Alec wrenched the letter out of his pocket and twisted around, blocking Magnus off so he could read it. By the time the warlock had grabbed it back, Alec had read it all.

"Clary Fray is back," he whispered, "Isn't she?"

"Goddamn it Alexander…"

"Maia's dead."

"Yes."

"And Clary Fray is going to kill you next. And then the rest of us."  
"…yes. Your sister thinks so."

"And you think I'm just going to run away to my sister and leave you alone? That's pretty rich. Everyone who is close to me seems to forget I was part of the Squad as well. I can handle myself."

Magnus sighed, "Yes, but can you handle Clarissa Fray?"

"I…"

"Clarissa Fray who lost her baby to us, lost her fiancée, and very nearly her life? _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, _Alexander."

"I know but…" Alec scrunched the letter into a ball, "I'm not leaving you."

Magnus smiled at the boy. His blue eyes were now hard with determination. It reminded Magnus of how strong Alec really was, what he'd been through. The innocence in his face was a façade, tricking his enemy into thinking he was the weak link.

Alec Lightwood was not a weak link.

However… he was Magnus's weak link

Magnus leaned into kiss him, but his hand shot up and hit Alec's temple, and with a spark of blue, Alec's mind was his. The Shadowhunter's body went stiff, then collapsed forwards into the warlock lap.

Magnus ran his long fingers through Alec's dark brown hair, "Sorry, love. Clarissa Fray is not getting her dirty hands on you."

Alec didn't respond. His steady breathes brushed against Magnus's hand.

He left Alec unconscious on the bed and called up Catarina Loss. The blue skinned warlock entered the room, saw Alec and raised her eyebrow, "My, my, Magnus, again? The boy's no going to be pleased."

"I don't need him pleased. I need him alive," Magnus said simply, "Prepare a portal to send him to his sister."

Catarina looked sulky, "Why can't you do it?"

Magnus flicked his fingers- blue sparks whizzed off them, heating up his skin. He stared at them solemnly.

"I need the prepare to kill Clary Fray."


	8. Chapter 8

Magnus Bane.

The name made any eye widen, especially since he joined the Squad. But even before that, the High Warlock of Brooklyn was one of the most famous Downworlders in the known universe. He rose to power a very long time ago, long before he joined the squad. With the help of his right hand warlock, Catarina Loss, a half French, blue skinned woman and, his personal bodyguard, the sadistic and completely insane Maureen Brown (only fourteen, what she lacks in age she makes up for with madness. She once killed a man four times her size by ripping out his throat with her teeth) and his personal army, the Bloody 88 (there's not actually 88 of them- more like two hundred and seventy seven), lead by the beautiful but deadly Camille Belcourt, he ruled with intelligence, and the people loved him.

I'd kind of loved him. He was always funny, never short of words, and just too nice to be in the squad. I remembered when I had been shot up pretty bad after a fight, and he never left my bedside as he healed me.

Then I saw his face, standing over me with no compassion, no regret, the coldness of a corpse as I lay dying at his feet, a pregnant bride who had once been his colleague, his _friend_.

And that's what kept me driving.

As I pulled up at a traffic light, I looked to the left and saw the woman I was following. Catarina Loss was staring down at her phone, white hair falling against her shoulders in long strands and blue skin glowing in the city lights. She did not see me, but it might have been due to the pulled up hood of my jacket. Without my flaming heap of curls, I was pretty inconspicuous.

I felt my mind travel back to the wedding massacre. At some point, bloodied and bruised, I looked right. There stood Loss, phone pressed against her ear, white hair secured in a tight bun, blue suit unruffled, high heels standing in a pool of Simon's mother's blood. She looked right- meet my eyes.

Smiled.

I had to clench the steering wheel to avoid jumping out at the warlock and giving up my position. I was so close. I'd have revenge on Catarina as well.

Catarina's car finally pulled up outside Taki's- a large Downworlder restaurant in Manhattan. I knew it well. It had been the Squad's main base of relaxation. Jace and I had gone on our first date here.

I shimmed out of my normal clothes and buttoned up a yellow jumpsuit I'd picked up out the back of the Shagin' Wagin. If Magnus was out, that meant at the least he'd have Maureen with him. Possibly some of the Bloody 88. I needed to be able to move freely, and the stretchy elastic of the suit gave me that option. I strapped Heosphoros to my suit and hopped out of my car. I walked around to the back entrance and climbed up the fire exit, clambering through the top window. From the top, I had a good view of everyone.

Including Magnus.

He was sitting in booth, flanked by Maureen and a couple of the Bloody 88. He wasn't eating- just sitting, with his eyes closed and the body glitter he had applied to his skin sparkled in the lighting of the café. Catarina was nowhere to be seen.

I snuck along the top floor, watching my target. Magnus put his long fingers on the table- they were glowing blue. His black hair was streaked with blue, darker that the light shade on his hands, and his golden eyes peeked open.

I heard his voice, "Maureen, check upstairs."

_Shot._

He knew I was here.

The tiny blonde girl was wearing a pink dress and small, buckled, shiny shoes. She looked like an innocent, sweet little child- but the huge butcher knife she pulled out of her Dora the Explorer backpack kind of ruined the effect. She began skipping up the stairs, knife swinging back and forth.

I grabbed onto the railing and lowered myself over the side, letting myself drop several metres to the floor with a small clunk. I rolled away from Magnus and his posses sight, then scooted into the ladies bathroom.

I bumped into a tall figure, my elbow going into her stomach. She coughed as the wind left her lungs in a hurry.

"By the Angel, watch where you're g-"

I looked up to meet the startled face of Catarina Loss. The blue skin of her face paled.

"Y-your…" she stuttered, "What are you doing here?"

_She looked right- meet my eyes._

_Smiled._

"I came for revenge on the people who ruined my life," I said darkly, "And guess what, Loss? You're one of them."

She gulped as I raised Heosphoros to her neck, "W-w-what do you w-w-want?"

I smiled, "Don't ask what I want, Catarina. It's a pretty loaded question. Ask what you are going to do to save your wicked life."

Catarina dropped to her knees, "What am I going to do to save my …wicked … life?"

I brushed Heosphoros against her cheek, "You know exactly what you need to do."


	9. Chapter 9

**Since I'm on Christmas break and this story is suddenly getting a lot more views, I'm going to upload as much as I can while I have the chance. Thanks to every one of you!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. **

**And I love Magnus ****really, he's my favourite character, but I need to make him a little bit evil or you wouldn't be on Clary's side. Forgive me.**

"Magnus?"

Catarina's broken voice echoed through the building, so obviously terrified that every eye turned to her. Magnus stood, eyes full of concern.

I jabbed the blue warlock in the back, letting her know to continue.

"You…have a…vistor," Catarina blubbered. She leaned against the post beside her, tears dripping down her face.

I stepped out. The entire restaurant seemed to gasp. Magnus did not, however. He didn't even look surprised.

I cleared me throat and raise my sword in one hand, "Magnus Bane," I announced in my darkest voice, "You and I have unfinished business."

Then, in one quick swipe, I separated Catarina's arm from the rest of her body. The warlock dropped to the floor, screaming in pain with a geyser of blood erupting from the stump I had reduced her arm to.

Magnus winced slightly, "Was that necessary, Clarissa?"

I pointed my sword at him, "I don't know. Was it necessary for you to kill my fiancée, unborn child and entire wedding party? Was it necessary for you to put me in a coma for four years?"  
"Touché," he sighed and waved his hand. His Bloody 88 bodyguard ran forward, screaming and swinging weapons at me. However, they obviously had no talent or precision, and I swept my sword at them and cut two in half. The other two circle, attacking from either side. I hit the floor, and their swords went into each other in a fountain of red from either side. I swung my sword through the legs of the last, and as he screamed, falling on the stumps that had once been his feet, I pierced Heosphoros through his heart.

_Too easy._

Magnus had retreated to the top balcony during my fight. He looked down at me and to the citizens fleeing the restaurant around us

"Anyone else?" I challenged, furious at his cowardice, "Maybe your boyfriend?"

Magnus leaned over the railing, "You'll never touch Alec. Maureen, please."

The little girl swung her butcher knife in her fingers as se approached me. She smiled sweetly, "Hello."

I sighed, "Maureen, I don't want to kill you. But I will not let you get in my way. Step aside and let me do what I came here for. I beg of you."

Maureen giggled. It was high pitched and girly and frankly sent shivers down my spine.

"You're funny. You call that begging?" she pointed her butcher knife at me, "You can beg better than that."

_Not stepping aside then._

I ducked as the butcher knife flew over my head and Maureen's tiny fist met my abdomen. For a little girl, she sure packed a punched. I gasped for breath and ducked backwards to avoid her next swing.

Maureen frowned, "Stop moving!" she bought her knife down on my sword arm and I only just moved so it hit Heosphoros rather than my flesh. My only weapon went skidding across the floor.

Maureen smiled and drew something out of her backpack- another knife, smaller but a lot sharped. She jabbed it at me and first blood was mine as it gasped a crevice into my arm.

I flipped backwards over a table and threw it up just in time as the butcher knife hit it with a thump, the end sticking out right by my ear. I gulped and threw the table at her, hoping to distract her to grab my weapon, but she kicked it and shattered it into a pile of splinters, legs and nails.

Maureen flipped behind me and knocked my to the floor. The straps of her Dora the Explorer backpack went around her neck and began pulling tight. I gasped for air but Maureen just pulled tighter. I could hear her giggles as she began humming some tune- The Bridal Chorus. She was taunting me. And strangling me with a Dora the Explorer backpack.

_Please, if there is a god let me die with a little more dignity._

I reached for the pile of broken table pieces and scrambled for a weapon. My fingers latched onto a chair leg. With my last ounce of energy I swung it up and heard a clunk as it met Maureen's head.

The straps loosened around my neck. Maureen made a little choking noise and I felt something wet and stick hit my cheek. Turning around, I faced the little girl. The nails at the end of the broken chair leg were digging into the flesh of her head. One had gone the whole way through her skull, sticking out the other side of her face. Blood dripped from her eyes and the corners of her mouth. She raised a hand and touched her temple where the nail stuck out.

"Mama…?" she stuttered, and a glob of red splattered on my face as she coughed up blood, fell to her knees and then to the floor in a fetal position.

Unwinding the backpack straps from around my neck, I found Heosphoros in the rubble and pointed it at Magnus. Catarina was still quietly sobbing in the background.

"Ready to fight your own battles, Bane?" I yelled.

Magnus smiled.

From outside, I heard yelling and slamming of car doors. I looked over at the doors, clenching my sword with a death grip, "Is that…"

"You didn't really think it would be that easy, did you?" Magnus asked, pointing at the locked doors. With a spark of blue, they opened and the Bloody 88 poured in. Women, men and some small enough to be only my age leapt over broken tables, snaked down the stairs and soon surrounded me in a tight circle, hissing, snapping and waving various weapons at me. Camille Belcourt led them, blonde hair tied in a ponytail, dressed in red and swinging a golden coloured sickle.

I looked up to the warlock watching over me, my eyes narrowed.

"Silly rabbit," Magnus tutted me.

I took a deep breath. Even I got his sick metaphor, "Trix are…"

"For kids," Magnus finished, golden eyes flashing. He turned and walked out.

The Bloody 88 tightened the circle slowly, advancing on me. I took them all in.

I raised Heosphoros, and muttered a short prayed to the Angel. I kept my eyes focused on the warriors in front of me. In the black metal I could see the ones behind me. I heard the clicking of someone swinging a mace. The intensity in the room floated above us like a cloud, both of us waiting for the other to make the first move.

Camille swung the sickle and pointed at me, "My clothes are red so none sees the stain when I slit your throat, pathetic homo sapien_,_" her accent was heavy, but I couldn't tell what it was.

I took a deep breath, and clenched my sword grip, "And mine are yellow so _everybody_ can see the stain when I cut you in half, bitch."

The intensity bubble popped, and the Bloody 88 fell on me.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer. This chapter is pretty bloody, I warn you.**

**Enjoy!**

My first swing with Heosphoros hit nothing but steel, but when I swung around it cut open the stomach of a man in black. He collapsed and a dozen took his place, not even sparing their dead colleague a glance. I saw a woman raise her blade behind my in the reflection Heosphoros provide my, and I swung up, cutting her open. Blood sprayed onto my yellow jumpsuit.

My next swing took off three heads in three neat geysers of blood. Taki's wallpaper was dripping in the stuff all of a sudden. I grabbed the arms of an approaching man with a sword in each hand and pushed them out, used each of his weapons to skewer his own colleagues before lopping both off at his shoulders. Screams of the fallen filled the restaurant as I slashed, stabbed and swung my way through the Bloody 88. But for each one I killed, even more seemed to take their place.

I stabbed an incoming fighter through the neck, then flipped sharply over the ones behind me, decapitating another three. As I swiped aside a smaller fighter but cutting off one leg, I found myself face-to-face with Camille Belcourt.

She swung her sickle so fast I didn't have time to block and she split the skin of my hip. It was a small cut, but it took my focus away enough for her to kick me in the abdomen and send me sprawling to the floor.

I threw up my sword in defense, stopping three blades from hitting me. I threw them off and cut the sword arm off one of them. Throwing myself to my feet, I slash my blade through the crowd and kicked Camille to the ground, then grabbed a discarded sword to stop the swords of a young Asian woman piercing me. I swung Heosphoros and cut off her legs at the knees.

I caught a thrown axe out of the air and threw it back at its owner- it sunk into his skull and threw him backwards, knocking over his friends behind him.

I threw a decapitated corpse into the Bloody 88 members behind me. They fell into a booth, ripping through the fabric. I jumped onto the shoulders of a younger fighter, cut off his hands and leapt to the balcony, grabbing onto the railing as the Bloody 88 yelled below me. Camille started leaping up the stair to the balcony, and I pulled myself over to meet her swing as she ran at me. She clashed blades with me, pushing my back to met the wall. Twisting so her sickle so it sunk into the wall and stuck the, I cut off one of her accomplishes in half and leapt off the balcony, swinging to the ground on a curtain and throwing it onto a group so killing them was like shooting- or stabbing- blind fish in a barrel.

I saw the silhouette of Magnus through a pale curtain, clambering down the fire escape.

_Coward. _

I dropped to the floor and spun on my back, cutting attackers off at their feet. They fell screaming, holding their lost limbs and sobbing like children. I fought my way to the stairs, then ran up them three steps at a time, more than I thought my short legs could handle. I cut one off and threw him down the stairs, knocking over my pursuers. Camille jumped over his body and followed me, with the only twenty fit fighters. The rest lay dead or crying.

I walked backward, into a private room. They followed, stalking me like prey.

I hit the lights, and we were plunged into dark. I heard their unsure footsteps, treading uneasily through the blackness.

I swung and killed three, from the sound of the screams. Now that my position was given away, they quickly fought back I jumped, ducked and slashed my way through them until only one remained, from the nervous footsteps.

My elbow hit the light switch and I stepped around the corpses, and the remaining fighter flinched at the light, I raised my sword, but when I saw his face, I realized it was only a child, shaking and holding what looked like a wooden sword.

I rolled my eyes and cut off the toy sword at the hilt. The little boy dropped his sword and raised his hands, shaking like a leaf.

I grabbed him and hit the back of his legs with the flat end of Heosphoros with each yell, "This… Is what… You get… For fucking… Around with… Shadowhunters!" I threw him away in disgust, "Go home to your mother!"

He ran out, falling over himself on the way out.

Camille suddenly leapt out of the shadows, and our weapons met with a metallic clang. She kicked me onto the balcony and jumped up on the railing, and nearly lopped off my head (probably the first time I ever thanked the Angel for my size). I jumped up to the railing to meet her blows, jumping back and fore trying to land a hit on each other.

We leapt back for a second, glaring at each other.

"Die," Camille hissed, raising the sickle.

"Been there, done that," I growled back.

She swung. I ducked backward, and then threw myself around. My blade met her waist- and kept going, all the way through. Camille's eyes went wide and her two halves went toppling to the ground, and hit the floorboards with two sickening splats.

I stepped off the railing, and tried to catch my breath. Groans, screams and sobs echoed through Taki's as the portion of the Bloody 88 that were still alive dragged themselves along the floor, trying to recover lost body parts and get out of the restaurant. I raised Heosphoros in shaking hands and shook blood off it

"Those of you still lucky enough to have your lives…" I called, panting, "Take them with you! However," I added, voice dark, "leave the limbs you've lost. They belong to me now."

I was answered by more moans and cried as the Bloody 88 crawled toward the exit.

"Except you, Catarina!" I pointed my sword at the squirming warlock. She looked up at me, white hair red with blood and eyes terrified.

I shook my head, "You stay _right _where you are."

Then I turned, jumped down the fire escape and ran into the night to kill Magnus Bane.


	11. Chapter 11

I found him sitting on the swings in a playground. As soon as I saw the solemn look on his face I knew he could have escaped- he had chosen to stay and fight me.

I stopped at the edge of the sandpit and looked at him, Heosphoros raise slightly.

Magnus smiled, "No magic yet, I promise. Quite an impressive sword. That your old one?"

"Heosphoros," I said, sword still raised- after Maia I wasn't trusting someone's word on honesty, "Blessed to the best swordsman in the land. Or swordswoman, in my case."

"Modesty, Miss Fray," Magnus stood, rolling up his sleeves, "We both know who the best swordsman in the land was, and it isn't you."

I flicked the sword, "Tell that to your army."

Magnus smiled softly, "Yes, them. I expected you a little earlier. You took longer than I expected."

I smiled back, "You kept me busy."

"Swords do not get tired," Magnus's fingers sparked blue, "But humans do. I hope you saved your energy. Otherwise you may not last five minutes."

I raised Heosphoros, "But I am not human, Bane. I'm a Shadowhunter."

"Really?" Magnus pulled out a sword and cast it with blue light, "You seemed very intent on being human last time we met, Tessa Gray."

I scowled, "I may very well have succeeded, if not for you."

He raised a hand to his lips, "Only following orders, my dear. But not now. This is for the safety of myself and all I love," he raised his sword, "I'll try to make it quick. Take a good look at me, Clary. As last looks go, you could do worse."

"Modesty, Mr Bane" I hissed.

He stepped carefully out of his shoes and kneeled, raising his blue sword in front of his face, ready. The white material of his suit strained under muscle as he bowed his head to me, and then stood. He was ready.

I raised Heosphoros, "_Semoga kemenangan terbaik_," I said softly in Indonesian. I knew next to no languages other than English, but Magnus had taught me a few. Including what I'd just said.

_May the best win._

In a flash of light- blue and black- our swords clashed. Magnus threw me back with a slash to the stomach, which I barely got out the way of. He flicked his sword so the hilt faced me.

We were the most different swordmasters there could be. While Magnus's movements were slow and accurate, graceful almost, mine were angry and powerful and fueled by hate. I had the adrenaline- he had the precision.

I flicked my sword up to my face, waiting for him to make the first move. Magnus slowly lowered the sword, then bought it up in front of me. It cast a blue stripe of light across his sharp features.

His sword swung, and I blocked, but he spun and I had to strain my arms to throw Heosphoros backward to protect my neck. I was the one who pushed him back this time, with enough power to make the warlock stumble.

We approached slowly, and crossed blades. I was panting and my face was screwed into a scowl. His expression, however, was unreadable.

I threw his blade away with mine and slash upward- missed by an inch. He skidded along the sand, swinging for my leg and I flipped over the blade, landing behind him. He threw the blue glowing weapon backward; I didn't have time to throw Heosphoros backward in defense this time. My entire body screamed as Magnus's blade slashed a deep wound down my back, and I cried out, falling to my knees. I felt the blood spilling into the sand of the playground below me. I collapsed backward, my vision blurry and my head spinning.

Magnus did not go for the easy kill- he flicked his sword free of my blood and let out a short, humorless laugh, "Silly Shadowhunter girl likes to play with warlocks," he pointed the blade at me, "You may not be the best swordmaster in the land," he stepped back, "But you can at least die like you are."

He was letting me get up. Letting me fight. Letting me die on my feet.

Steadying my breathing, I pushed myself to a sitting position. Sticking Heosphoros in the ground to help pull me up, I staggered to me feet, vision swimming. Magnus watched me, expressionless.

I raised my sword in front of my face, "You…and I," I panted, "…_have_…._ unfinished… business._"

Magnus smiled- not mocking, but genuine. It made my emotions claw at my throat like an inner demon trying to crawl out.

Our blades clashed, the metallic clang ringing through the chill morning air, and I spun…

Magnus suddenly staggered back, eyes widened. I stayed crouched one the ground where I had dropped and swiped at his leg. Our eyes met and her limped back, sword raised.

A thin trickle of blood ran down the white fabric of his suit, where I had landed a blow on his thigh. Magnus touched the blood, peering at it as if he'd never seen anything like it in his life.

For a second, all I could hear were crickets and the sounds of both our breathing.

Then Magnus spoke- in Indonesian, but I could recognize enough words to know what he was saying, "_For ridiculing you earlier," _he spoke so softly I had to strain to hear him, "_I apologize._"

I nodded and, in Indonesian, said, "_Accepted.":_

There was a long pause while we both caught our breath. The emotion clawing inside of me had worked its way to my throat, and the only thing keeping it down was my mouth, squeezed tightly shut.

I swallowed, "Ready?"

Magnus took in a deep breath, "You have to kill Alec too?"

I pushed down tears at the sadness in his voice. I nodded.

His eyes flickered to his sword, and he raised it, but it was halfhearted at most, and his golden eyes were soft, "Come on."

We ran at each other. Our swords met, once, twice, three times…

Blood drew a line through my jumpsuit. Magnus stood with his back to me, where he had spun to hit me. He stood so upright and still I was sure that the blood was mine, not his, even though I felt nothing.

Then I noticed the top of his head. Or rather, the lack of it.

Magnus's sword fell from his fingers and bounced at his feet. The blue faded from its blade.

I still had Heosphoros raised, an extension of the one of my arms, which were open as if I was about to hug the warlock. My breathes were labored and the wound on my back ached, but it was numbed by the conflicted emotions boiling in my stomach.

Magnus's last words were soft, but clear, "That really is the blade blessed to the best swordswoman in the land."

My body was shaking. Magnus fell to his knees, and then collapsed forward into the sand. The blue from his fingers faded.

I turned away. Lowered my arms. Staggered all the way to the park bench, and then fell into it, tears clawing at my eyes. With my hands still shaking, I unfolded the sheet of paper hidden away in my bra. And I drew a line through the name Magnus Bane on my Death List.

Two Downworlders gone. Four Shadowhunters to go.

I didn't look at Magnus's body again as I stood and left the park- I only moved forwards.


	12. Chapter 12

**After this chapter things are going to change up a little more. Maia and Magnus were both killed in the ways The Bride killed Vernita Green and O-ren, but I'm sure you want to see Sebastian fight badass Clary and if I stuck to deaths that happened in Kill Bill that wouldn't have happened. **

**Read, review and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own neither the Kill Bill plot or TMI characters.**

Catarina sat on the edge of her hospital bed, her blue skin covered in a white hospital scrubs. A knotty mess of tubes and monitors ran from her body to the machines and bags they were attached to. Blood pumped into her arms stump, fluids ran into her veins. Tears dripped from her big eyes.

She felt ten long fingers grasp her shoulders lightly, "Oh, Catarina. Poor catarina. I'm so sorry."

Catarina hiccupped, "Please…forgive my betrayal."

Jace smiled into her stringy hair, "No more of that. What did she do to you, what did she do to Magnus's beautiful, brilliant Catarina Loss?"

Catarina closed her eyes.

_Clary stood over her in the car boot, red hair redder from the blood that dripped from it. The yellow jumpsuit was more crimson now._

_The Shadowhunter was scowling, "Magnus is dead."_

_Catarina howled._

_"__Shut up!" Clary flicked her sword against the warlocks face, slicing open her cheek, "You will listen to me, and listen to me carefully. I've kept you alive for two reasons. And the first reason is information._

_Catarina spat at her, "Burn in hell, redhead bitch! I'll tell you nothing, murderer!"_

_Clary sliced open the other cheek, "How dare you think you have the right to call me murderer? You listen. I'm going to asked you questions. And everytime I don't get answers, I'm going to cut something off. And I promise you, they will be things you will miss. What about your other arm._

_Catarina screamed…_

Jace ran a hand through his blonde hair, "So Magnus is dead. And she knows where we are. All of us. Sebastian, Isabelle and Alec, myself…"

Catarina broke down into tears.

"Hush, shhh," Jace soothed, "If you had to guess where she was headed next, what would be your best guess?"

Catarina hiccupped again, "_Guessing _won't be necessary She…informed me. She said…"

_"__As I said before, I've allowed you to keep your wicked life for two reasons," Clary leaned down to the blue skinned warlock, "The second reason is so you can tell __**him**__ in person everything that happened at Taki's tonight. I want him to witness the extent of my mercy by witnessing your deformed body. I want him to know what I know. I want him to know I want him to know. And…" she put her hand on the car boot, "I want them all to know they'll all soon be as dead as maia Roberts and the Great Magnus Bane."_

_The car boot slammed._

Jace looked out the window, "Whatever will I tell Alec?"

"Tell him to run," Catarina said, panicking, "If you have any love or mercy for any of them, tell them to get away. Clarissa Fray is insane."

"Not insane," Jace walked to the door, "Heartbroken."

He nearly left, then turned around to look at her one last time.

"Just one, last thing, Catarina," he said softly, light eyes glittering in the hospital lights, "Is she aware her daughter is alive?"


	13. Chapter 13

Alec sat at the table, cold coffee untouched in front of him. Isabelle was on the phone in the other room of her apartment, speaking in hushed tones. Alec's hands clenched the sleeved of his jumper, wearing away the thin fabric. His bottom lip felt dry and chapped. He hadn't slept since he'd woken up in the guest room of his sisters house. She'd had to lock the door to keep him from running all the way back to Brooklyn. Now, he was a little less… clingy. Magnus wouldn't have liked it.

Isabelle stepped into the room without a snarky comment about how shit he looked, so Alec knew something was wrong immediately.

She sat opposite him, "That was Jace."

"Didn't know you still had him on speed dial. Let me guess, he's you're Friday Night Special?"

Isabelle's expression didn't change, and Alec felt the sense of dread boiling in his stomach crawl up his esophagus.

"Clary Fray tortured Catarina Loss for information," she said softly, "Loss told her everything. Including our address. So pack quickly, she could be coming…"

"Catarina Loss is Magnus's right hand woman," Alec stood up, "What happened to Magnus? Did he escape?"

The look on Isabelle's face told him everything, but he slammed his hands down on the table, "Goddamn it Izzy, what happened to Magnus?!"

Isabelle walked over and touched his shoulder comfortingly.

Alec slid back into his chair, "I could have helped. If he'd let me stay…"

"Clary Fray took down Maureen Brown, the entire Bloody 88 and Camille Belcourt in without more than a scrape, then killed the High Warlock of Brooklyn and maimed his best friend all in the length of about half an hour," Isabelle said seriously, ignoring Alec's flinch, "You wouldn't have stood a chance. She's… insane."

"I could have been there," he said softly, "I could have died with him."

"Alec…"

He shoved her away, walked to the door and pulled out a jacket and a quiver of arrows. Sliding both on, he said to his sister with his voice trembling, "I'm not going to run from what I did. But I'm not going to sit around like everybody else, waiting for her to show up. Get out of here, sister, if you want, but I'm going to find her. And if I kill her, it's over. And if I die…"

"No!" Isabelle shrieked, "You can't go! I prohibit it!"

"I'm a grown man Izzy!" he yelled, "I trained in the Squad just like Clary. Just like all of you. Yet you seem to think I'm not capable of defending my self?"

Isabelle voice went up an octave, "No one can defend themselves from that murdering, red head bitch!"

"Then we're all screwed anyway, aren't we?" Alec grabbed his bow and a hunting knife, "Goodbye Isabelle."

He opened the door, but Isabelle grabbed his arm.

"Please," she begged, "I don't want you to go."

Alec smiled at his younger sister, "I remember I used to say that every time you went away on a mission," he stroked her dark hair, "So I'm just going to say what you said to me every time," her shoved her away, "_Get over yourself_."

H slammed the door behind him and left his sister to scream.


	14. Chapter 14

There were three knocks. Jace knew exactly who it was.

He opened the door, "Jonathan."

"Sebastian, Jonathan," the white haired boy corrected coldly.

"Jace, Sebastian," Jace smiled slighty.

Sebastian was not his blood brother, but the way they'd been raised, together, gave them an unbreakable bond.

Jace sometimes wondered if he liked that.

"Come in," he offered, opening the door to his house. Sebastian followed him cautiously, as if someone was going to jump out at him as any time. His pale hand never left the hilt of his blade, Phaesphoros. Jace remembered the sword well. It's twin, Heosphoros, had been the one he'd bought Clary, a month after she'd joined the Squad. He grimaced; remembering his fight with Sebastian after Clary had walked in, twirling the blade that was 'meant to be his'. Heosphoros, the morning star, the sword blessed to the best swordmaster in the land, was Clary's- the tiny redhead with a crush on Jace and fumbling footwork, and Phaesphoros, its lesser brother, belonged to the boy who could take down a whole army single handedly and had been fighting, killing, since before he could walk.

"What brings you here, Sebastian?" Jace collapsed into the armchair of his chair.

Sebastian's glare was cruel, "Catarina told her everything?"

Jace sighed, "Indeed."

"Is Loss dead?"

Jace was surprised, "No?"

"Shame. Pathetic sniveling traitor," Sebastian sneered, "So is it true? The Great Magnus Bane was killed by your little girlfriend?"

"I don't think she'd be to happy with you referring to her as that," Jace twisted a leather armband on his wrist, "But yes. Scalped him and left him dead in a playground for a couple of kids to find."

Sebastian swore, "And do we know who she wants first?"

"No idea. Alec's was at Isabelle's last I heard from her, but she had to break the news about Magnus, and knowing Alec, he'll overreact and get himself killed… all I can suggest for you is to lay low and watch your back."

Sebastian ran his fingers along the barrister, "And what about you? You know she'll want to save you until last. Are you going to… _lay low?_"

Jace laughed sharply, "Unfortunately, I can't run. I have…other commitments to think about," he glanced up the stairs at a room next to the study. The door was closed, but the way his eyes soften when he saw it made Sebastian's harden.

"I live in a shitty caravan in the middle of nowhere," Sebastian ran a hand through his white-blonde hair, "But now she knows exactly where 'nowhere' is, and she's coming to the middle of it. And I can run all I want, but we all know she's going to find all of us. She found Roberts within days. She could be at my place already, waiting for me to walk in."

Jace brushed blonde hair out of her eyes, "I know we haven't spoken in a while, and the last time we did wasn't all that pleasant."

Sebastian stared up at the closed door, "She is coming, and she is coming to kill us. I'm not running from what I did…"

"Can't we just forget the past? We'll all be dead in a day if we don't…"

"…and I'm not running from her," Sebastian snapped, eyes sharp, "I'm not laying low. That girl deserves her revenge. And we…" he drew Phaesphoros a little way out of the scabbard, "Deserve to die."

Jace watched him in silence. Sebastian pushed the sword back into the leather, and looked up, black as coal eyes burning.

"But then again, so does she," Sebastian stood up, "So, I guess we'll just see, won't we?"

Jace sighed, "I guess this is goodbye then."  
"Only if she doesn't hesitate," Sebastian opened the front door, "Because I am no a man of guilt. And if she hesitates, I will kill her to save myself."

Jace stood, "And why did you come here? I trust it wasn't a social call."

Sebastian smiled- a cold, emotionless smile, "I came make sure that you were ready for her."

Jace raised an eyebrow, "And am I?"

Sebastian moved so quickly that Jace only blinked and Phaephoros was at his neck, cutting into the flesh lightly, and Sebastian was laughing softly.

"Never," the Shadowhunter released Jace, scabbarded his sword and left without another word, leaving Jace's heart hammering and a trickle of blood running down his neck, staining the collar of his white shirt red.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi.**

**Okay, this took a while, but I swear I'm back on track now. Just ****enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer and all that, let's go!**

The first arrow smashed the back window. The second sent the Shagin' Wagin and I spinning off the road.

I swore at the top of my lungs and turned the steering wheel twice, skidding to a halt at the curb. I ducked as another arrow shattered the drivers side window to shards which rained down on me. Fumbling for the door handle, I rolled out onto the street, Heosphoros in hand. I ripped one arrow which had sunk into the door and examined it. It was plain, wooden with a steel tip, but the carving in the side told me it was a Shadowhunter arrow. And I knew only one Shadowhunter who used arrows.

Alec Lightwood had come to me.

I unsheathed Heosphoros and cut in half an arrow that flew toward my face at last minute. Rolling under my car to get to the other side, I pressed my back against the door, adrenaline streaming through me. I touched the hilt to my forehead, muttered a prayer and leapt onto the hood of my car. I deflected two more arrows and searched for my target. A dark figure darted across the roof of a building opposite me and disappeared from view as quickly as he'd appeared. I narrowed my eyes and rolled over the road, sword at the ready. Grabbing a windowsill, I catapulted myself up the building using various hand holds and loose bricks. As soon as I was on the roof, I froze, sword poised in front of my face and heart. I waited silently for Alec to reveal his position to me.

Thunk. A sharp pain erupted to my left as an arrow sunk into my sword hand and caused me to drop Heosphoros with a shriek of pain. Alec darted from the shadows and booted my sword so it went skidding across the roof, then over the edge, clattering on the floor five stories below. I curse loudly as Alec swept my legs out from under me with his bow and I ended up on the ground, dagger to my throat.

I gritted my teeth so hard my gums bled, "Your little sister teach you that?"

"I'm a lot stronger than you think," Alec hissed.

"Because strength is proved by killing an unborn child, an overweight mother crying over my fiancée and her son's corpse, and beating the shit out of an unprepared opponent?"

"You've killed people too, Clary. Don't try and get the arrow out. It's barbed."

I swore. The only way to safely remove a barbed arrow was to push it straight through, which require having the use of two hands. I was useless.

"As for unprepared opponents, how much notice did Maia Roberts receive?" the dagger dug deep into my collarbone.

"Alec Lightwood," I bared my teeth, "I thought you might at least understand. It's all for revenge. For taking away all I loved."

The knife dug deeper.

"That's why _you're _here, right? You never were the violent type."

"Shows how much you know," Alec smiled cruelly, "You know, that assumption made by everyone around me is what's made my death count even higher than my sisters. Almost higher than Jace's. Much higher than yours."

I sucked in a breath, "Not anymore. Unless you can beat a werewolf, a tween assassin, a whole personal army and the High Warlock of Brooklyn?"

Alec's blue eyes burned with rage, "I'm going to kill you."

"No, you're not," I narrowed my eyes, "Because you don't have the balls. If you were half as brave as you made out, I'd already be dead. And Magnus probably wouldn't be dead. You're lucky you weren't the one who was put in a coma. You'd wake up and not even have the courage to avenge…"

"Shut up!" Alec screamed, slashing the knife across my face. It hurt like a bitch.

His eyes were burning harder, "I'm keeping you alive the same reason you kept Catarina alive- information. How did you kill Magnus?"

"Lightwood…"

"_How?!"_

I sucked in another breath as the knife pressed down into my neck. Maybe I had overlooked Alec, "I…scalped him. With Heosphoros."

Alec winched, but keep those blue eyes on me, "And was he in… pain?"

I shook my head, able to tell the truth to the blue eyed boy, "He didn't even cry out," I whispered, "He just… died."

Those pretty eyes softened considerably, "Then I let you die without pain."

The knife raised. I watched it lower to between my eyes. It would be an instant death.

_Not Good._

My arms free, I threw them around his waist in a tight embrace, the barbed arrow still sticking up out of my hand over him like a flagpole. He cried out in frustration, but I rolled before he could strike me. Our bodies moved in slow motion, me twisting over on top of him, the end of the arrow touching the ground, the pressure from the cement pushing it all the way through my hand and…

Alec gasped as the tip of the arrow that had passed through my hand and now through his chest appeared trough his sweater, a tiny glinting red triangle that seemed to sit perfectly balanced on his sternum.

I ripped my hand out from under him, and refused to look at the damage. The pain was enough to tell me it was utterly fucked up. I'd be impressed that Alec could hurt me so bad if only he wasn't lying below me, impaled by his own arrow.

Alec's breaths were coming in short panting noises. One shaking hand travelled up to the tip of the arrow and touched it gently, "Magnus would say it was ironic that an archer could be killed by an arrow that didn't even need to be fired from a bow."

I let out a shaking life, "Magnus has a very dark definition of irony."

Alec smiled slightly, "Magnus had a dark definition for everything."

I could feel the tears welling up. God I hoped the killing the other three wouldn't be so emotionally hard. I'd never guessed that Alec, silent, hard eyed Alec could have so much love, so much grace in accepting he was dying. And I could see he was dying. Blood was blooming like a rose on his sweating in a gradually growing dark circle. His breaths were already becoming labored.

"Well, I wanted to be with Magnus forever, I suppose," he coughed up red bile, "This isn't the immortality that I imagined, but it'll do. Even if I had killed you, I doubt I could live without him."

I sniffed, glad it was dark, "I always thought you two just used each other."

Alec's smile was sad, "We're not all like Isabelle and Sebastian. At first, perhaps, I didn't trust him, didn't feel comfortable… but we stayed together all this time, and as soon as I left he was gone forever. And I'm sorry about your car. Wanting revenge has taught me one thing- if you can go through with it, you deserve it."

I bit my lip, "You'll get you're revenge, Alec, even if you're not alive to see it. I don't plan on living all that long after mine."

Alec's misty eyes went wide, "You can't…die! You can't leave… JC!"

I felt a pang at Jace's initials. Jonathan Christopher. JC, "I'm not leaving Jace, Alec, I'm going to kill him. And when I do, I'll have nothing left to live for. I'd be happier in burning in hell."

"Not Jace…" he gasped, suddenly becoming hazy, "He stuttered out his next words, "_You…didn't…know…"_

Then his jaw went slack, his body lost animation, and Alec Lightwood died in my arms.

I wiped my face furiously to rid the betraying tears, and closed his eyes. I stood, leaving his pale body lying on the ground, and walked stiffly to the edge of the building. Dropping a windowsill at a time, I reached the ground where Heosphoros lay in the gutter. I picked it up and slid it into my scabbard. I crashed the road where the Shagin' Wagin had been run off the road. Pulling an arrow out of the door, I inspected the damage. Shattered back window, drivers window, but other than that it seemed mostly unscathed. I pulled myself inside and took a deep breath. Reaching for my death list, I ran a line through number 3, Alec Lightwood's name.

Then I tapped it to the glove box, flicked off the last couple shards of glass from under me and continued on into the night.

**Please feel free to review! I love all of your theories. It's really hard to keep secrets since most of you know the plot, but I'm trying to mix things up. Trying.**

**Until next time...**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello there! Sorry this took a while. I'm on holidays now, and my aim is to start finishing some of these stories. This chapter is from Izzy's POV. It does contain mention of child death and suicide... just thought I might need to warn you.**

**Thanks for sticking with me!**

Isabelle's phone rang.

She glanced at the screen. Jace Herondale. She automatically grabbed for it, but her fingers hovered above it in hesitation. She had gotten to use to answering after one ring, Jace's little puppy dog.

_Not a puppy dog. More like a bloody Rottweiler._

She picked up the cell and answered it with silence.

"Five rings," Jace's voice didn't have its usual mocking tone, "You're letting yourself go, Izzy."

"Cut the shit, Jonathan," Isabelle snapped, "Tell me right now where the hell my brother is."

There was a long silence. Way to long. Isabelle's grip nearly snapped the phone in two.

Then Jace spoke, "I'm sorry, Izzy."

She howled. Three words, not even a confirmation, broke the toughest girl into sobs. She knew. By Jace's tone, those simple, short words put together only meant one thing.

When she'd been seventeen, her little brother Max had been abducted by a strange man in a van, and she hadn't been able to stop him. The police had found the ten year old with his head bashed in with a hammer. She hadn't been able to do anything but scream when she'd been told. She hadn't been able to do anything but scream when her parents had split up a year later. She hadn't been able to do anything but scream when he father found a boy in Alec's room and beat the shit out of her brother in front of her. She hadn't been able to do anything but scream when she came home one day from school to find her mother dangling a foot off the ground with a noose around her neck in the bathroom.

When Jace had approached her and her brother, he'd given them a chance to do more than scream. They'd hunted down the man who killed their brother and made him suffer to his last breath. It had been the last thing they'd just done together, the two of them. And then Alec had found Magnus, and Isabelle had no time for her big brother over trying to sabotage Clary and Jace's relationship.

_Not true._

They'd done one last thing together. Alec had held down Clary as Isabelle had kicked in her face with her high heels before the others had joined in.

And now Alec was dead, and Isabelle was alone again.

Jace's voice crackled over the other side, "I'm so sorry, Izzy, but he went out there alone, there was nothing I could do…"

"FUCK YOU!" Isabelle screamed into the phone and threw it halfway across the room, where it cracked against the wall.

Then Isabelle Lightwood curled up in a ball in the corner and wasn't able to do anything but scream.

**I know it's short but keep going, go to the next chapter...**


	17. Chapter 17

Sebastian Morgenstern didn't like being yelled at. Not when he was as hung over as he was at that moment and especially not when he was the next target of a short redhead's death list. But heroin-snorting hooker-banging club-managing boss didn't seem to pick up on that.

"I don't know what _fuckin' _car wash you worked before you came her that let you stroll in 20 minutes late, but it wasn't owned my me!" Six Fingered Nigel drummed his deformed hands in the desk, glaring into Sebastian Morgenstern's eyes. Beside him, a prostitute was snorting white powder off his bare thigh. People over 50 really had no place wearing shorts, even in Texan summer, but apparently no one had told Nigel this.

Sebastian yawned, "There is literally nobody in here, Nigel."

"'There is literally nobody in here, Nigel'," Sebastian's boss mocked his voice in a falsetto squeak, "What's your point, that you're not needed here?"

Sebastian leaned forward on the desk, smiling coyly, "My point is, I'm the bouncer and there isn't anyone around _to _bounce."

Six Fingered Nigel sneered and pushed the hooker in to his crotch with a surprised squeak from the topless woman, "You're saying the reason…that you're not doing your job that I'm fuckin' paying you to do is that you don't have a job to do."

Sebastian scowled, "No…"

"What are you trying to convince me of exactly? That you're useless? Well guess what, buddy, I think you just about fuckin' convinced me," Nigel ripped a calender off his wall, "Lets go to the calendar. Its calendar time. Ok. You workin' tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Not anymore. We don't seem to fuckin' need you anymore," Nigel spat on the name scawled at the bottom, "Actually, we don't need you all week. What about Monday?"

"Nigel…"

"_Not_. But guess what, because I'm such a nice guy, I'm not gonna fire you. Let's call it, _unpaid leave until further notice_," Nigel threw the calendar at him, "Get out of my bar, Morgenstern."

Sebastian felt his fists clench. He had Phaesphoros hidden under his sweat shirt. He wondered how much of Nigel's smile would remain if Sebastian looped of his head at the jaw. If Sebastian had still been in the Squad, he would have killed the fucker on the spot.

But he wasn't. He didn't even qualify as a Shadowhunter anymore. He was a broke bouncer at a strip club who lived in a trailer in the middle of nowhere. And all thanks to Clary Fray.

As he left, he heard Nigel groan behind him, "Oh yeah, honey, keep suckin'…"

He walked faster.

It was dark when he got home. He stormed up the steps of his caravan and twisted the dodgy key hard, pounding the creaky door open. He entered sword first, ready for the redhead midget to jump out and attack. He ended up cutting a pot plant in half.

_You are truly pathetic, Sebastian. She's got you exactly how she want you- jumping at every creak and waiting to die. _

Sebastian swept up the shattered plant pot and threw the whole thing in the bin. He let out a shaky breath, then regained his posture. He walked over to his CD player and pressed play.

_'Robert's got a quick hand_

_He'll look around the room_

_He won't tell you his plan…'_

Stripping off his shirt, Sebastian inspected his chest in the mirror. Although his defined abs still rippled up his chest, he was out of shape. He grabbed the door frame between the kitchen and bathroom and did a couple of chin ups without touching the ground with his feet.

_'He's got a rolled cigarette,_

_Hanging out his mouth,_

_He's a cowboy kid…'_

Outside, a red-haired girl stained her neck as she bent down low underneath the caravan's windowsill. Her breathing was paced. She has one hand on her sword, one on the wall of the caravan. She felt the breeze rustle her hair as she crept along the side, the music from inside in rhythm with her steps.

_'Yeah, He found a six shooter gun,_

_In his dad's closet hidden_

_With a box of fun things…'_

I pulled the black hood back from my face and took a deep breath. Who knew Sebastian, of all of them would have ended up in a shithole like this. She'd always thought of him as having a rich daddy to run home to if everything went to shit.

_'I don't even know what,_

_But he's coming for you…'_

Dogs barked in the distance. I threw myself onto the stairs of Sebastians caravan, skewered the lock with Heosphoros, threw open the door…

Coming face to face with Sebastian Morgenstern, sitting calmly on a chair directly facing me, double barrel gun pointed straight at my chest.

I hesitated at the door. Sebastian did not.

BANG.

**Dun Dun Dun. See you all soon! Or not... RIP Clary Fray?**


	18. Chapter 18

_'All the other kids,_

_With the pumped up kicks,_

_Better run, better run…'_

Sebastian hummed along to the chorus as he slung the gun over his shoulder and strolled outside to the redhead girl, withering in pain at the bottom of his stair. He laughed.

"Well, shit. That was easy. You didn't think I saw your ranga hair from a mile away? Stupid girl," he booted her in the stomach and Clary howled, "Double dose of rock salt right in your tits. Bet it hurts like a _bitch_, right Fray?"

She just groaned in reply. Sebastian walked over to where Heosphoros lay in the dirt, and picked it up. It was seriously lightweight. The sight of it strangely disappointed him. He'd seen Heosphoros as a prize, blessed to the best swordsmaster in the earth, but winning it from Clary had been so easy he doubt it even meant anything. And it was really short. He sighed in dissatisfaction and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder. Clary hissed at the sight of disrespect to her prized weapon. Sebastian laughed again.

"I can't even imagine how much pain you are in right now," Sebastian walked back over to her, and knelt down in the dirt. "Now, sweetheart, I know you always learnt better from Jace when he spoke you through it. If you could redo that, what would you be different?"

Clary moaned something that sounded like, _Fuck you_.

"Now, now, you know that only works with Jace, Clary," Sebastian stuck a finger in her wound and the read head screamed, "Now, what would you do? Tell me before I shoot you again."

Clary let out a loud cry, "I'd…fuck… drop to the floor…"

"Wrong," he dug his fingers in deeper, "You think I would be able to change my aim? All you'd get would be a double shot to the pretty face. Now that would fucking sting. Try again."

"Get behind a table…"

Deeper. "Did you see a table anywhere in there?"

"Flip out of the doorway!"

Sebastian slapped her across the face, "Did you get amnesia or something when your boyfriend shot you through the face? TELL. ME. THE. RIGHT. . ANSWER."

Clary roared out, "I'D CUT OFF YOU'RE FUCKING HEAD!"

Sebastian withdrew his fingers, "Right. With no hesitation. You may have gotten shot but at least you would have been done trying, instead of lying here like a pathetic mundane."

Clary snapped at his fingers with her teeth, growling like an irritated dog.

Sebastian tutted her, and then got out a flip phone with a black cover. He scrolled down his list of banned contacts, terrorists, mob bosses and the works, until he got to the group of five numbers named simply DSAS.

Bane (Disconnected)

Alexander Lightwood (Disconnected)

The Dog (Disconnected)

Jace Herondale

And finally…

Don't Call This Bitch Ever Again

He clicked on the last and held the phone up to his ear. Isabelle Lightwood answered after the first ring, sounding breathless, "Jace?"

"Wrong Jonathan, you hateful bitch."

"Sebastian?" Isabelle sounded confused, then angry, "Called to poke at my wounds, asshole?"

"Wounds? Oh right…you're brother," Awkward. "Well, if you still haven't gotten over that yet, then you might be a bit more pleased about this than Jace will be."

There was silence, and then Isabelle said angrily, "Well? I'm a busy woman. Tell me, asswipe."

"Now, now, be nice, Izzy," he knew she'd be grinding her teeth at that, "Someone just showed up at my front door, and I though you might enjoy the fact she's in a shitload of pain right now."

Isabelle was silent again, "Are you telling me…"

"Say hello, Fray," Sebastian held the phone up to her mouth and stuck his fingers in her wound. She screamed into the microphone, and followed with a string of profanities.

He heard Isabelle laugh, "Oh my god. I love you so much at the moment."

"Don't get sloppy on me. This call is strictly business, Lightwood. How much would you pay for a custom made, blessed by Raziel Morgenstern short sword?"

"Are you kidding me? You've wanted that sword all your life. You mutilated Diana Wrayburn for that thing."

"Well, she was being a rude bitch. But now I have the thing, it doesn't seem much use. It's too lightweight."

"You've won the sword blessed to the best swordsmaster walking earth, and you think it's not manly enough for you?"

"Ha. Well, I've had an epiphany. Since the 'best swordsmaster walking earth' is lying with half a load of salt in her breasts at my feet, I figure it's the carrier that makes the sword- and I already have a sword. What I don't have is cash. Ten million, in cash, and the as-of-now lesser twin of Phaesphoros is yours."

Isabelle hesitated, "You're seriously pawning the best blade in the world? For ten million? Shit, you've let yourself go, Morgenstern."

"You're right. Fifteen million."

"Yeah right, fucker."

"Twelve, final offer. I'm sure that'll be easy enough for you to get by say… tomorrow morning. My place. Deal, Lightwood?"

Isabelle was being surprisingly quiet that night, "One condition, you little psychopath," her voice ground with hate, "Fray dies tonight. And she suffers…" he heard the girl break something loudly in the background, "_To her last breath._"

Sebastian's grin twisted sinisterly, "That," he announced, "My dear Isabelle, is pretty much guaranteed."

He hung up and looked down at the twitching redhead.

"Well," he shrugged, "You're fucked, basically," he took a box out of his back pocket and retracted a needle full of black liquid. He tapped the edge twice and kneeled down, to have Clary flinch away with a cry of pain.

"Oh, don't worry," Sebastian laughed, "You're death will involve a lot more pain than a needle can deliver. This is just to stop you kicking."

He pushed the needle into her flesh and Clary's eyes rolled back into her head as her body went limp.

He wiped off his hands on his jeans and grinned to the sky before dialling another number.

A croaky voice answered, "What the hell do you want, you little twat?"

"Andrew Blackthorn," Sebastian forced a smile into his voice, "I'm afraid I'm going to need your help. I've made a bit of a mess, and I need someone to clean it up."

Andrew sighed over the phone, "I'll be there in a minute."

"I'm betting on it."


End file.
